


(Re)Making an Angel

by Ywain Penbrydd (penbrydd)



Series: The Holy Host of the Living Room [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Incest, Bonding over knives and coffee, Brotherly Love, Brotherly face-punching, Cas without grace, Crowley is a twat in the background, Demon!Dean, Dysfunctional Family, Lore applied with a shoehorn, M/M, Slow Build, Why angels aren't supposed to have sex, addict!Crowley, power-bottom!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penbrydd/pseuds/Ywain%20Penbrydd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>--Season 9 Essential to the Plot | Spoilers Abound--</p><p>Castiel's grace was stolen, so he tried stealing some more for himself, but that didn't work as intended. But, there is a way for him to regain it, even if it's terribly inadvisable. Another angel, long out of Heaven's reach, remembers the means, and shows up at the bunker, looking for Cas. Sam is paranoid, Dean's a dick, and Crowley wants photos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Angel at the Door

**Author's Note:**

> My source for angel lore is the 1994 edition of Gustav Davidson's 'A Dictionary of Angels Including the Fallen Angels'. While I bent the lore a little hard around Kafziel, that's a bend I made for another story about fifteen years ago, and I forgot I'd done it, until I was halfway into this, so you're just going to have to cope with me listing him as a former Angel of Memory. First chapter is heavy exposition. I make no apologies for Dean or Crowley; they can apologise for themselves. They weren't even supposed to be in this story. Bonus points to anyone who spots the LPD quote that snuck in.

The man standing at the door of the bunker was Sam's size. Actually, he was larger than Sam, which was distinctly unsettling, but the younger Winchester kept a firm grip on his much-beloved angel blade and stared back into those gunpowder-grey eyes.  
  
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" It seemed like a good place to start.  
  
A laugh rumbled out of the man's chest. "Don't worry. Your angel-proofing hasn't failed. I have come seeking my brother. I understand he has ..." A hint of a smile lifted the left corner of his lips. "Fallen from grace."  
  
Sam looked completely unamused, as he continued to block the door. "Give me one reason I shouldn't strike you dead, right here. Your kind haven't proven particularly trustworthy, lately." Or ever, really.  
  
"Because I'm here to help." The angel turned his palms out and lifted his thick, brown arms a few inches from his sides. "My name is Kafziel. Not to be confused with Qaspiel, of the moon, or Thursday's Child, Castiel, who I understand you know well. I've been here the whole time," he said, as if that explained anything. "I didn't fall with Heaven."  
  
Sam opened his mouth, but the words died on his lips as Kafziel spread his wings. Even as shadows they appeared intact. This was an angel with his full power at his disposal.  
  
"How can you help him? He's lost his grace. I don't think there's a way to just put that back. He already tried." They're still standing in the doorway, and Sam's grip on the knife is firm.  
  
"I can give him a piece of my own, and help him to bond with it, to grow it into himself. It was a skill I learned, while I was leaving heaven.  
  
"Before I walked away, I was one of the angels of remembrance. I heard that passed on to Zadkiel. I also heard Zadkiel didn't survive the fall. He took on so much for me, when I left, but I couldn't stay." Regret hangs thickly between them, as Kafziel takes a breath he doesn't need. "Our father left, so disappointed was he in Lucifer's rebellion, but I could not choose either side. Both seemed entangled in their own pride -- forgive me, father, but you were." The last came out as a sigh.  
  
"That sounds familiar," Sam scoffs, thinking of his own father. "Look, this sounds like a long story. You already know where this place is, and I'm standing here with the door open, so I doubt things are going to get much worse if I invite you in. You're going to have to walk in front of me, though."  
  
"Thank you. I did not think to ask: Are you Sam or Dean?" Kafziel ducked through the door, peeling off his leather greatcoat and shaking out his long, coffee-coloured hair.  
  
Sam found himself struck with that casual display of trust, but it caught up to him pretty quickly that he'd fought angels before, and at least on the stairs, this one could probably kick his ass. He followed Kafziel down to the main level. "I'm Sam. I guess you've heard of us."  
  
"I believe Castiel calls it 'Angel Radio', thanks to one of you. I have heard of your adventures. I had followed them like radio dramas, until Metatron took that from us." Kafziel stopped and sniffed the air. "Sulphur?"  
  
"No, it-- Well, yes, but-- Look, it's just Dean. He's not really a demon. Well, kind of. He made some bad decisions involving the jawbone of an ass, and for once I'm not just talking about him opening his mouth." Sam paused to consider that. "Actually, knowing Dean, maybe I am. I still don't know how he got that damn thing."  
  
Kafziel actually smiled, a tired and pained smile, this time. "Your family sounds like mine. Turn your back, and your brother turns into a demon, although I heard a rumour you did it first."  
  
"Yeah, and then I danced the masochism tango with _your_ demon brother. Not really the best couple of years." Sam gestured toward the kitchen. "Do you want a cup of coffee or something? Beer? Microwave burrito? I'd offer you pie, but Dean made it, so it's probably a little sulphury around the edges."  
  
"Coffee sounds good. Did Castiel ever tell you he and I were present for the first cup ever brewed? It grew on me. He was ... less impressed." The main room was impressive, and the kitchen spoke to the thought that had gone into the design of the building. It was meant to survive the apocalypse, which, to be fair, it had.  
  
"It grew on him, eventually, too. It just took longer." Sam kicked a chair away from the table as he moved toward the coffee maker. "Sit. Just put your coat wherever. It's not like anything else is getting in."  
  
The angel sat, draping his coat over the back of the chair next to his. In the brighter light inside the bunker, Sam could finally make out the details of his dark-skinned face -- high cheeks, strong jaw, broad slightly-bent nose -- a memorable vessel.  
  
"So, who was he, before you...?" Sam asked, switching on the coffee maker and getting himself a beer from the fridge. He sat on the edge of the counter, twirling the angel blade on it.  
  
"My vessel? A convert. He called out, and I found him lost in the desert and stole him from the djinn. I never knew his name. He woke up long enough to pull me in, thinking I would save him, but from himself, not the djinn, and then he never woke again. I've tried -- I go to him in the dreams in his dream -- but he's happy. He's been happy for centuries. I don't have the heart to make him see the world he loved is gone." Kafziel shrugged, looking strangely human, before he met Sam's eyes. "I could force him out of it. You know that. But, with me, he'll live forever in whatever wishes the djinn granted. He doesn't want to come back."  
  
"It's hard to come back from that." Sam's eyes said there was more to that story, but he didn't tell the rest. He wasn't sure he really knew the rest. It wasn't his to tell, anyway. "But, you were telling me about leaving heaven. You what, just... walked away?"  
  
"In short, yes. I was not the only one. We concealed ourselves, carved runes and traps into our vessels, and we scattered. I don't know how many of us remain, but we were long assumed dead or fallen, after we stopped responding to heaven's call. Some may have gone back. Some may have fallen. I did neither."  
  
For a moment, there was no sound but coffee dripping into the pot. Then, from one of the back rooms--  
  
"Moose? Is that coffee I smell? Bring me a cup!"  
  
Restrained displeasure tightened Sam's face. "Get your own coffee, Crowley! Do I look like a diner waitress to you?"  
  
"Well, if Dean's impressions are anything to go by--"  
  
"They're not, which you should know by now! You've been sucking his dick long enough!"  
  
"You keep my dick the hell out of this, Sammy!" Dean's voice echoed down the hall.  
  
The angel's eyes flicked from Sam to the long hallway and back. "Crowley? As in...?"  
  
"King of Hell." Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "One of these days, I'm going to shove this knife so far up his--" A frustrated grimace posing as a smile shot across his face. "No, it's fine. He's addicted to my blood. Keeps him out of trouble. Actually, it usually keeps him curled up on the couch with a box of tissues and a giant stack of chick flicks. He's... looking after Dean. Sort of. It's a long story.  
  
"Sorry about that. You were saying?"  
  
"You are an extremely unusual man, Sam Winchester." For a change, that didn't sound like a threat. "I was saying that I left everything I knew. Perhaps I was driven by my own pride. Certainly by my disappointment. I had always looked up to Lucifer. He was the favourite son, light and truth, but he and our father got into a fight none of us could come back from, and I walked away from my family. And then I just kept walking."

"I did that a few times. Never got out," Sam muttered, shaking his head, remembering that it was not these fled angels he'd been compared to, but Lucifer, himself.  
  
"Your brother came after you with love. Mine came after me in wrath," Kafziel pointed out. "But, I changed. Get one of your books. Look up my name. I am not forgotten, but I am remembered as who I became, and not how I began. I taught remembrance, where I passed; I brought clarity, but sometimes that came with sorrow. I was Saturday's Child, one of the Angels of Saturn, the Angel of the Death of Kings, one of the three Angels of Memory. And now I am remembered as the lord of solitude and tears.  
  
"I recall the name and the face of every companion I have outlived, and I have ensured each, to the last, has risen to heaven with memory of all I taught, but no memory of my face or my name. I took that from them, that I might not be found. I arrive as a friend, but I leave as a stranger.  
  
"But, heaven has fallen and I am forgotten. I dare, now, to return to what of my family remains worthy of that name. Castiel has made mistakes. I have watched him make many of them, but he has dared to make them. He has tried to do right, even when it ended badly. I respect many of the choices he has made without our father's guidance. But..." Here, Kafziel paused. "Tell me, Sam, have you ever struck your brother, for his poor choices?"  
  
"Only about as many times as he's punched me for mine. Actually, less. It's not that he's magically less of an asshole, I just don't walk up and deck people, like he does." Sam finished his beer and poured Kafziel a cup of coffee.  
  
"Thank you." The angel smelled the coffee and smiled serenely, holding the cup in both hands. "I believe I may punch Castiel, once I have secured his grace."  
  
The silence settled around them, and Sam just stared, frozen, as he sorted through the implications. "If you're going to start with Cas, can you please do it outside? A lot of what's in here is ... just, please, take it outside."  
  
"I will not bring my annoyance with my brother into the home of his family. You have my word. In your home, I will show him only the gentle face of my love. The ungentle knuckles of my love, we will take elsewhere." Kafziel took a mouthful of the coffee and sighed, contentedly. "This is very good."  
  
Sam nodded uncomfortably, and looked like he might say something, but the angel cut him off.  
  
"You seem concerned. I assure you my intentions are not to cause harm to Castiel. He is my brother, and I love him. I love him like a brother, which I believe you understand well." This ended in a pointed look that left Sam grinning sheepishly.  
  
"Yeah. I do. God, do I." A breath that was almost a laugh slid through Sam's teeth. "I don't know if he does, though, you know? I'm not sure that's the best way to get through to him. He's a little... weird. Been through a lot of shit, lately."  
  
"I know some of what was done to him. I have seen others who suffered similarly, and my living siblings did not rise to help them. My brothers, the other Angels of Memory, did nothing. May have done worse than nothing, as I fear one or more may have been involved. I know he has been made to forget a great deal, and that he has been made to remember things that were never his. It has harmed him. It has changed him. And it may be part of his struggle to keep his ... acquired grace."  
  
"Stolen. Stolen grace."  
  
"And that is the other part of the problem. It was not given willingly." The angel seemed focused on becoming one with the coffee. "I willingly give this piece of myself, that he may be whole again."  
  
"So, how do we get it out of you and into him?" Sam asked, leaning against the counter again. "I remember him drawing Gadreel's grace out of me with a syringe. Hurt like murder."  
  
"That's because it was killing you. Your body is not meant to handle --" Kafziel remembered to whom he spoke. "The human body is not meant to handle that sort of strain. You were constructed, bred through centuries of selection, to be a vessel for one of the most powerful of all angels. Consider this may be the only reason you survived this affair."  
  
"I didn't mean to survive this affair. I goddamn told Dean to let me die. I meant to stay dead." Sam shook his head. "I give up. I can't stay dead; he can't stay dead. I don't know what the hell we're going to do the day one of us really doesn't get back up, but that just gets less likely as time goes on."  
  
"One day, you'll die. Both of you. Few things are built for eternity, and if I should outlive you, I will walk you both upstairs. Every person has their own slice of heaven, but I do not think you will be happy, unless you are together. You've done so much with so little. You deserve at least that."  
  
"Thanks. Really. I can't-- That really means something. To us. Thank you for even trying. What have we ever done for you, that you're offering?"  
  
"You've kept my brother as safe as you knew how. You've made him your brother, as well. None of your kind have ever accepted one of us quite like that. Not knowing what we are. Unknowing, of course, is different. Some of us can keep up quite a facade. But, you knew, and you still let him in. Not as some creature to be worshipped and pacified, but as a member of your team, and then as your family. You cared for him, when our family betrayed him, and blamed their betrayal on him. You cared for him, even after he betrayed you, which is, actually, why I intend to apply my fist to his noble form, once I have given that back to him. Let me give you this one gift, if I live long enough to deliver it. In these days, it is difficult to make a promise."  
  
"Wow. Just... _wow_. We put your brother through hell and purgatory, and you want to thank us." Sam shook his head. "Hey, I'll take it, as long as you're not involved in making us dead."  
  
"You are remarkably distrustful." Kafziel observed, quietly, hiding an amused smile behind his coffee cup.  
  
"Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not after me," Sam shot back. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question. How are you going to get your grace into him? I mean, I doubt yours or his are meant to handle that thing with the syringe."  
  
"I don't intend to use a syringe. I intend to have intercourse with him."


	2. Strange and Terrible Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kafziel explains, and Sam wishes he hadn't asked. More beer. More coffee. More bizarre stories. Still no Cas. Definitely Cas in the next chapter.

"I don't intend to use a syringe. I intend to have intercourse with him."  
  
A strangled sound came out of Sam, as he choked on his tongue, eyes wide. "You what?"  
  
Images flashed through his mind. If it was Dean, would he? Of course he would, but that's the kind of thing you do if your brother is dying, and there's no other choice. That didn't make it appealing or even slightly ok. He wasn't sure if that happened between him and Dean, they'd ever be able to look at each other again. And he was going to need a lot of whiskey to unsee that, now that he'd thought of it.  
  
"We experience morality and physicality differently. I'm sure you've noticed that. An angel with no vessel has no gender, no sexuality, and very little desire. We are impressed upon to avoid engaging in sexual activities with humans, or each other in human forms, because of the possibility of nephilim. But, the nephilim are strange and powerful for a reason. It is because we have transferred a part of our grace."  
  
"Wait, I'm sorry, did you just say angel jizz contains grace?" Sam scoffed, horrified disbelief still stamped on his face from the last revelation.  
  
"Not the words I would have chosen, but yes," Kafziel answered, unperturbed.  
  
"What about angels in female vessels? Does that mean they can't share their grace?"  
  
It was like watching a python swallow a pig, Kafziel thought, watching Sam attempt to take in the information. "I have never had a female vessel, but I do not believe it is impossible. I believe it is slightly more complicated, but still very possible, though I have never seen it done. It is, after all, not only men who ejaculate."  
  
"Not onl-- Oh. _OH._ " Sam was sure Dean would have caught on more quickly, but at the same time, he was so very glad Dean wasn't here for this conversation. His face distorted a bit as he struggled to return from shock and horror to interest and curiosity. No, he couldn't quite make it back. The cure for Castiel's problem was an internal application of his brother's angelic jizz, and that stuck Sam with an expression of fascinated disgust. "So, you really think he's going to go for this?"  
  
"It is the best of several unpleasant options. In this, no one else will be harmed, and he may be healed. I do not believe I will be dissatisfied with my actions, despite twenty centuries of human morality, and he has not been among you as long as I have. Of course, much of his time among mankind has been erased, as well. I hope to give that back to him -- to give all of it back to him. I cannot be sure how many of his unfortunate choices have been a result of him simply lacking one or more memories that would have provided him insight into the aftermath of his actions. We are meant to remember, but we are also not intended to possess free will. Had he remained obedient, his lack of memory would have brought him no harm, but that is a poor rationale for destroying a mind." Kafziel paused. "I ramble. Forgive me. Yes, I believe he will accept my offer."  
  
"He hasn't spent as long here, but you haven't spent any of it actually human, have you? You haven't been without grace." Sam had seen Castiel trying to live as a regular guy, with a regular life, and he believed it had made a strong impression.  
  
"My grace was once Gabriel's. I had an incident with a Knight of Hell, but he had mercy on me."  
  
Sam's jaw dropped. " _Gabriel?_ Gabriel had _mercy_?"  
  
"He was somewhat less jaded, at the time. He also has no memory of saving me. I left him as a stranger, as much as it pained me." Kafziel finished his coffee. "I'll give it back to him, one day. He does not have a monopoly on excellent pranks."  
  
Sam's gaze of studious disbelief settled on Kafziel, and he thoughtfully jammed a finger into one of the multiplicity of still-healing slashes on his shoulder from his last hunt. Nope, there was still an angel at the kitchen table. Good. Not hallucinating. It wasn't a particularly comfortable thought, but he preferred reality, even when he wasn't sure it should be happening.  
  
"You're serious, aren't you?"  
  
"Serious as a head wound. Is there another cup in that pot?" The angel held out his empty cup.  
  
"Head wounds aren't usually that serious. They just bleed a lot," Sam remarked, absently, as he poured another cup, still trying to wrap his mind around any number of things. Today was just full of surprises. He got himself another beer. _Sticking it in Dean_ , his traitorous mind suggested, and the cap came off the beer so fast Sam couldn't remember removing it. "If you ever do give that back to Gabriel, take pictures. I want to see his face. I still owe him at least one good one."  
  
"If I can get a camera near him, you'll get copies." Kafziel swirled the coffee in his mouth. "One problem remains. I do not sense Castiel, here. I followed the signs to you, but he is not with you. Do you know how to find him?"  
  
"Yeah, of course." Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Your brother has finally joined the twenty-first century."  
  
"It's always the obvious answer, isn't it?" Kafziel shook his head, as Sam dialled.  
  
"Voicemail." Sam sighed. "Cas, answer your damn phone. One of your brothers is sitting in my kitchen, and he's not an asshole. Kafziel. Says he drank the world's first coffee with you. Also says he knows how to give back your grace. Call me."  
  
"Not an asshole. Strong praise from a Winchester, I've heard."  
  
"I can count the number of angels I'm willing to drink coffee with on one hand. The number of demons may be a little higher, right now. I probably shouldn't be comfortable with you, but you're not pushy and you don't sound like you're selling something, every time you open your mouth." A self-conscious laugh rose out of Sam's chest. "That and you didn't flip out when I mentioned there's a demon and a half, in the back room."  
  
"Your demons seem more concerned with coffee and each other than with me. It didn't seem worth the effort. If two thousand years of mankind teaches anything, it teaches patience." Kafziel shrugged. "Free will, hormone-driven emotional responses, and, on a good day, maybe a third of the applicable data for any situation? It sucks to be you. I'm sorry. I don't know what my father was thinking, and I apologise for him. I know, I know, I'm starting to sound like Lucy."  
  
Sam struggled to keep the beer in his mouth and swallow it. " _Lucy?_ Did you just call your brother, the demon, the devil, the absolute lord of Hell, Lucy?"  
  
"Oh. Awkward. That sounds much less terrible in Enochian. But, a lot of us suffer that problem, especially since the fall. So many of us have names that were glorious, when we got them, but have gained unfortunate implications in many human languages. Asahel? She's going by Ashbel, now."  
  
"Yeah, I can see why. Not a name I'd want people calling me."  
  
They drank in silence for a time, listening to the faint hum of the ventilation system and incomprehensible irate sounds from the end of the long hall.  
  
"How long do you think you're staying?" Sam finally asked.  
  
"I thought I would get a room in town." It doesn't answer the question, but it answers the implication. "Unlike so many of my siblings, I do understand how motels work."  
  
"Don't. It's better if we don't have that kind of regular traffic. People will start looking. Stay with us. You don't sleep, do you?" Sam stepped away from the counter and slid the angel blade into a sheath in the small of his back.  
  
"No, I don't. Are you sure you're comfortable with me here?"  
  
Sam smiled slyly. "I'm the only one left who sleeps. There are enough eyes to keep you out of trouble."  
  
Kafziel laughed. "I can see why my brother is so fond of you."  
  
"He likes Dean better. I'll be damned if I know why, but I think it has something to do with tequila and Casa Erotica. Oh, and that whole 'not born to be the King of Hell' thing." Sam snorts. "And I guess there was that one time when he was god, and I stabbed him in the back, but I thought he was going to kill my brother!"  
  
Kafziel continued to laugh in that way that's only possible if you're only breathing so you can laugh, and you don't actually need the air to sustain bodily functions. "You stabbed him, while he was possessed? With what?"  
  
"Well, you know, an angel blade. I don't know, it made sense at the time. He's an angel. I thought he was going to kill my brother, so... I stabbed him with an angel blade!" Sam looked at once disgruntled and painfully embarrassed as he grabbed what was left of his beer and headed back out toward the main room. "Come meet the library. You don't sleep, so you're probably going to want something to read."  
  
Kafziel stood and followed, coffee in one hand. "I don't blame you. Please don't think I mean to hold that against you. He made a terrible mistake, and I know you tried to stop him. I would have come sooner, if I had any idea of his intent, but he'd gone silent to us all. He knew Raphael would come for him, and on some level, I think he knew we would, as well. If he remembers us." A smile flickered across his lips. "You stabbed a demigod in the back. A great man once said, there is a fine line between bravery and stupidity. I think you have erased that line, and I mean that in the best way possible."  
  
"... Thanks. I think." Sam took a swig of his beer and gestured broadly with his other arm. "Books and manuscript cases as far as the eye can see. If you like bravery unto stupidity, I can't think of a better place to look for reading material than this place. We found some film of a priest who invented a way to cure demons. And then he got torn apart by a Knight of Hell. It's a little short on happy endings, sometimes."  
  
"So's life. Do you have any favourite sections? Tomes you might suggest?" The angel stepped into the stacks and gazed upward.  
  
"Actually, yeah. There's a book of... well, I'm pretty sure it's Enochian poetry, but my Enochian's not that great. It's probably really good if you can actually read it. Either that or it just sounds good, because my translation is terrible." Sam pointed to the book and then stepped back, as his phone began to ring.  
  
"It's Cas. Sec. Book's right there." He took a breath and then answered. "Cas? Hey. ... Yeah, he's right here. We were just talking about Enochian poetry. ... He says he wants to give you a new grace that'll actually stay put. And your memory. He wants to give you back your memory, so you'll finally know if Naomi was lying. ... What? I don't know. ... You can talk to him about that. ... How long will it take you to get back? NO! No. Don't do that. I'll come get you. Where are you?"  
  
Kafziel tapped him on the shoulder. "Let me take you there. It'll be faster."  
  
"Your brother says he'll take me to come get you, so you don't kill yourself trying to get here, and I don't drive into a tree trying to get to you before you do. ... Yes, Cas. ... Yes, Cas. ... That's probably a good idea. ... Yes, I'm really pretty sure he doesn't mean you any harm. I know you don't remember. That's half the problem. ... You're _where?_ ... Yeah. Ok. We'll be there soon. ... Get me a burger, would you?... Thanks."  
  
Sam stuck the phone back into his pocket. "DEAN! I'm gonna go get Cas. I'll be right back. If I'm not back in an hour, you should probably care," he shouted in the general direction of the back room.  
  
"Why?"  
  
 _Asshole._ "Because it means the angels got us, you jerk!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'll come save your ass. Go bring our angel home. And get me some pie!"  
  
"There's pie in the fridge!"  
  
"Wait, did I...? Hell yes, I did! Thanks, Sammy!"  
  
Sam finished his beer and left the bottle on the table, next to Kafziel's coffee cup, as he addressed the angel, again. "Did you come through town? You know that BigGerson's by the highway? That's where we're going."  
  
Taking Kafziel's offered hand, he kept a cautious eye on the angel, as they flashed out of the bunker.


	3. Things Better Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas finally makes an appearance! Dean gets some screen time, and promptly regrets it! Sam may never be able to look his brother or Cas in the eye again! And Cas demands that Kafziel respect his sexual prowess! DEMAAAAAANDS. Still no porn. That's the next chapter.

Sam hadn't let go of Kafziel's hand, since they left the bunker, and the angel understood that distrust and didn't say a word. Other people in town, though, seemed to take them for a couple, which resulted in some odd looks, however smashing they may have looked together. Sam wore his dismay well, if a bit obviously. After all, what was there to say? _'No, it's not like that, he's my brother-in-law'_? Brother-in-law was pretty close, he thought. This was Cas's brother, and he was Cas's brother, but Kafziel wasn't his brother. Hm. Half-brother? Step-brother? Just another goddamn angel, and that was something he couldn't just tell people.  
  
They found Castiel where he said he would be, holding a takeout bag. "I also got one for your brother. And for my brother," he said, handing the bag to Sam.  
  
"Thanks, Cas. Dean will love you. Crowley will cry. Again." Sam took the bag and shook it open to examine the contents, without letting go of Kafziel's hand.  
  
Castiel spoke again. "Hello, Kafziel. I thought you died in the rebellion."  
  
 _That_ was an accusation.  
  
"Yes. I know. Come back to Sam's with us, and I will make things right." Kafziel does not say 'come home'. He's not even sure where home is any longer. "Not all things, but several important ones."  
  
"What makes you think you will be able to give back my grace?"  
  
"Cas!" Sam interrupted. "Not here. Too many people."  
  
Kafziel held out his hand. "Can you still see me, Castiel? Do you see that trace of Gabriel on me? That is what makes me think I can give it back. I taught Gabriel to give back _mine_ , and I know I am not the last to remember the means, though there were few of us. Most, I believe, left with the rebels."  
  
"If there is a way, why is it not on the tablet?" Castiel argued.  
  
"What? It should be on the tablet. Metatron knows it." There's a long pause. "You had the tablet? Oh." Another pause. "That's what happened. I had wondered. Angel Radio has been a little staticky, since you swallowed the Leviathans. And then Metatron, well... I lost track of your amazing adventures."  
  
The deadpan delivery of the last was not lost on Sam, who snorted quietly.  
  
"But, if you had the tablet, where is the prophet? I can prove what I'm telling you, if you have the prophet look for it on the tablet. I know it's there. It has to be. It's part of us," Kafziel insisted.  
  
"Our prophet's dead. Heaven's closed for maintenance. There are no prophets left," Sam filled in, bleakly. "And we don't still have the tablet."  
  
"Rough week," Kafziel commented, with a sympathetic glance.  
  
"Rough few months," Sam corrected. "Come on, Cas. Let's get off the street, at least. You can have the rest of this argument at home."  
  
Castiel clutched his cherry slush protectively, and then nodded and took Kafziel's other hand. "You have already found us, and I am nearly gone. Trickery would hardly be necessary if you meant us harm."  
  
Together, they walked around the side of the building and vanished between one window and the next.  


* * *

  
  
"Dean?" Sam called out, as he opened the door of the bunker. "We're home!"  
  
"Oh, thank god. He's high as a kite, watching Sixteen Candles, and crying in his wine." Dean clung to the bottom stair rails, looking horrified. "I can't take it, Sam. Make him stop."  
  
Sam levelled a resigned gaze at Kafziel. "Demon problems." The _'Do you see what I have to put up with?'_ was implied. "Dean, just leave him with a bottle of chocolate syrup. He'll get over himself. Didn't you move the other television into your room? Watch something else."  
  
"How about I just stay with you guys. You look strangely sane, today." Dean held a hand out to Kafziel. "Dean Winchester. Didn't catch your name."  
  
"Kafziel, angel of the-- _former_ angel of the Lord." He corrected himself, as he took Dean's hand, still sorely pissed at his father and brother. "Your brother tells me you had an accident with the jawbone of an ass."  
  
"You told him that?"  
  
"Dean, he's an angel. You're ... kind of a demon. I had to say something."  
  
"I really thought Cain had finally managed to get rid of that thing. I apologise. That is something I do not know how to solve." Kafziel clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder and leaned in closer. "Your other demon problem can probably be temporarily abated by slipping valium into his wine. If he's gone native, I'm willing to believe he won't be able to shake it off."  
  
"Sammy? Can we keep this guy?" Dean grinned. "I'm starting to like you, angel."  
  
Castiel interrupted, as they made their way into the main room. "Dean, I bought a bacon cheeseburger for you, while we were out. Sam has it."  
  
"Burgers for all." Sam held up the bag. "But, after lunch, you should probably put in earplugs and go watch porn. You do not want anything to do with what's about to happen, here."  
  
"Sounds exciting. Why am I leaving you alone with two angels?" Dean snatched the bag and fished his burger out of it.  
  
"I, too, would appreciate an answer to that question. You have yet to explain to me how you intend to rebuild my grace." Castiel squinted intently up at Kafziel, sucking on the straw in his slush.  
  
Sam froze. Dean did not need to hear this. Dean hearing this would be the end of the minuscule shreds that passed themselves off as Sam's peace of mind. He snatched the bag back. "Hey, are you sure that's not my burger?"  
  
"Of course I am. Yours always has extra mayo," Dean mangled out around a mouthful.  
  
Kafziel took advantage of the opportunity to speak quietly with his brother, while the Winchesters argued over the burgers. "Castiel, I understand this will be difficult, but I know that it works. It worked when Gabriel did it for me. We need to..." Castiel was not Gabriel, and there was something about this vessel's face that just made the rest of that sentence extremely difficult. "We must have intercourse. It is slightly more complicated, but that is the essence."  
      
Silence settled over the room.  
  
"I'm sorry, did you just say you need to fuck my angel in the ass?" Dean demanded.  
  
"I am not _your_ angel, Dean. At this point, I am barely an angel at all," Castiel protested. "This does not seem to involve any violence. I will not need to fatally slit the throat of another of my siblings or... Well, you saw what happened with Anna. If it does not work, I will have wasted a single somewhat awkward evening."  
  
"With a dick in your ass!" Dean complained. "And he's your brother, isn't he? Sammy, if it ever comes to this, the answer is no. You get to stay dead."  
  
"Thanks, Dean. I really needed that image." _Again._ Sam sat on the edge of the table and sighed. This was the scene he'd been trying to avoid.  
  
Castiel stepped forward and handed his cup to Dean, then placed both hands on Dean's shoulders. "I realise that you are concerned about me, but I have done all I could do, and more. If this is the end, at least I will have fought. Besides, I have tried sex. I found it enjoyable, if the aftermath less so, but I had it with the wrong person. This time, it will not be with a reaper. It will be with my brother, who is trying to help me, and is willing to put a piece of himself inside me, so that I can again become the angel you have always relied upon." He paused. "You should shower, Dean. You smell like sulphur, again."  
  
"He's your brother! That's twice as bad! And he's an angel, and I don't much like angels, right this minute. Well, you, but I don't mean you. You know that."  
  
"Would you rather I had sex with Meg? She is not an angel or my brother, and she offered."  
  
Sam choked on his burger. Kafziel just crossed his arms and looked amused.  
  
"No! I would not rather you have sex with Meg! Especially not Meg! She's a manipulative bitch! She's a _demon_!" Dean shouted.  
  
"You're a demon."  
  
"And I'm not having sex with you, either!"  
  
Sam tossed the last burger to Kafziel, who caught it easily and shrugged. _'Brothers, right? What are you going to do?'_ It was understood.  
  
"Dean, I think what you're missing here is that this isn't your decision," Sam threw in. "It's Cas's. And he's made it."  
  
Dean turned on him, smacking the cherry slush against Cas's chest. Cas caught it, of course, but he had to let go of Dean to do it. "How are you so ok with this?"  
  
"It's not my decision. And more importantly, it's not my dick and your ass." Sam shrugged. "Which I _would_ do if it would save your life, but it would immediately be followed by alcohol poisoning for both of us."  
  
"Hell, no! That is a door that says 'no entry'. It comes to that, you give me a hunter's funeral, and we call it good."  
  
Sam squinted down at his brother. "It's not as horrible as you make it out to be, Dean. Awkward as hell, under those circumstances, yeah. But, taking it in the ass is not the worst thing in the universe."  
  
Castiel added his agreement. "Your brother rather enjoys it, Dean. I had the opportunity to observe him with Ruby--"  
  
"Oh my god, Cas! Shut up about Ruby! I don't even care what you saw, just don't tell me you saw it. And don't tell _Dean_! About any of it!" Blood rushed to Sam's face, and he glowed with incandescent horror.  
  
Dean's eyebrows shot up and he looked suprisingly thoughtful. "Ruby's got a--?"  
  
"No!" Sam howled.  
  
"I believe she was using her fist," Castiel remarked.  
  
Dean froze, mid-bite. He swallowed hard, cramming that bit of burger down his throat, unchewed, and then tossed the rest of the burger onto the table. "I'm going to go get drunk and watch Sixteen Candles with the King of Hell. You kids have fun."  
  
"Dammit, Cas," Sam groaned, as Dean fled the room.  
  
Castiel continued to look confused around the straw of his cherry slush.  
  
Kafziel eyed Sam with a whole new level of respect. "Fisting? You're bendier than I am."  
  
"Less bendy, more stretchy," Sam corrected, absently, still staring, horrified, after his brother.  
  
"I thought he knew," Castiel defended himself. "He always says you cry during sex. I would probably also cry if she were doing that to me."  
  
"Cas? More cherry slushy. Less talking. And for the last time, I do _not_." Sam looked at Kafziel. "He's been like this for _years_."  
  
"I can only praise your infinite patience." The tall angel looked like he meant it. "Do you happen to have any holy oil? We will need to borrow some. Having seen his condition, I would also prefer to have yohimbe, ginseng, and ginger on hand. This may not be as simple as it was, with Gabriel."  
  
"I might have seen some MDMA, in one of the labs, if you think that'll help," Sam offered.  
  
"Please."  
  
"I do not see the relevance of these herbs," Castiel declared.  
  
"They're not all herbs. But, you know what? I'm going to go to the lab. Why don't you two check out the room behind the third door on the right, and I'll be right back with a few things." Sam fled in the opposite direction as his brother. "You should take the beer, too! It's in the fridge!" He called back.  
  
Cas found the beer, and Kafziel led his brother down the hall. "You need to be able to enjoy this experience, or it may not work. I can provide you with some chemicals to make that easier. All you have to do is relax and tell me what you like. I know you have made a point not to mind what this body tells you, that you can turn off those signals, as long as there is still grace in you, so I want to make sure that when it tells you what it wants, you can hear it."  
  
"I can always hear it. And feel it. But, it is rarely relevant." Castiel opened the door of the room they had been directed to. "I am not yet human again. Why would it matter, now?"  
  
"It is an erotic magic. If I am not swept away with passion, you will not receive my grace. If you are not equally enraptured, it will not settle into you. I taught Gabriel to perform the spell, and he taught me some questionable uses for local plants. It took us weeks to get it right, but it was the first time either of us had tried. How could we know that the ability to ejaculate on command would not serve us, in this?" Kafziel examined the room, taking in the sparseness. "I did not ask. What is this place?"  
  
"This was one of the bunkers of the Men of Letters. It is said to be the only one, and they are said to all be deceased, but I am not sure I believe either of these things, although this cell has been wiped out." Castiel sat on the edge of the bed, the only appropriate seating in the room, still wearing his coat. "I assure you I understand how to enjoy sex. I have had it. I have also watched pornography, extensively."  
  
"And Sam and his girlfriend," Kafziel pointed out, drily.  
  
"She was not his girlfriend. She was a demon, and she was using him," Castiel protested. "But, yes. I watched them, because I was trying to protect Dean."  
  
"Who has just turned into a demon, through entirely unrelated means."  
  
"It has been difficult to watch him, not being an angel," Castiel ground out. "The point is, I can perform sexually."  
  
"But, can you be thrilled by it? Can you forget all the things you need to remember, and just enjoy it?"


	4. Naming a New Scribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not. Quite. Porn. I know I said 'slow burn', but I swear I didn't think it would be this slow. Holy shit. On the other hand, half-naked angels snogging. Can't go wrong with that!

"It has been difficult to watch him, not being an angel," Castiel ground out. "The point is, I can perform sexually."  
  
"But, can you be thrilled by it? Can you forget all the things you need to remember, and just enjoy it?" Kafziel asked.  
  
"I don't see why that would be difficult. Humans do it all the time." Castiel looked up to find Sam standing in the doorway, with a box under his arm.   
  
"Am I interrupting?"  
  
Kafziel reached into the box, finding the holy oil, immediately. "No, not at all. Actually, I need your help. We have to pull this bed away from the wall, and put a ring of holy oil around it."  
  
"I'm sorry, you want me to make an angel trap?" Sam squinted at the large angel standing before him. "Around the bed you're about to get laid in?"  
  
"Just to stop the earthquakes and the rising of the waters. I can control myself. Usually. He's not allowed to." Setting the oil on what seemed to be a desk, Kafziel grabbed one of the bedposts, but didn't ask Castiel to get off the bed. "I'm not really allowed to, this time, either."  
  
Sam set the box beside the bottle of oil and grabbed the opposing bed post. Together they moved the bed into a position in which they could circle it, once Castiel lifted his feet.  
  
"The floor in here, this is concrete?" Kafziel asked. "I don't want to burn the place down."  
  
"Don't worry about it. Angel traps are not the worst things that have been done to these floors. Trust me. I wish I hadn't seen video." Sam picked up the oil and studied the lay of the room. "Have to make sure you end up with enough space for everything inside the circle."  
  
Studiously, Sam circled the bed, counting his steps, eyeing the box, the two angels, and the other furniture. On the third pass, he tipped the bottle, drawing the circle. "That looks about right."  
  
"It does," Kafziel replied, stepping out to get the box. "Castiel, I advise leaving at least some of your clothing outside the circle, if only so it doesn't get knocked into the flame."  
  
"When you and Gabriel--"  
  
"We levelled the city of Damghan." Kafziel rubbed his face. "It was a terrible accident, but we didn't _know_."  
  
Sam paled and checked the line of oil again. "You're sure this is enough to stop it?"  
  
"It was enough the next time we tried. It was an extremely difficult several weeks of attempts, moreso for the unfortunate people around us. But, I learned. And I learned to protect them." Setting the box inside the circle, Kafziel sat on the edge of the bed, beside Castiel, and began to unlace his boots. "Sam, I'd like you to stay with us."  
  
"What?" His instinct was to decline, but he wanted to hear the reason, first.  
  
Castiel seemed to be on the same page. "Why would you want that? He can't be involved."  
  
"He doesn't need to be involved. He's one of the Men of Letters." Kafziel stood, peeling off his thin, white t-shirt, revealing lines of dark-blue Enochian and Arabic tattoos down his chest and sides.  
  
The light went on in Sam's head, and he breathed in sharply. "You want me to record this."  
  
"I do. So many have fallen. So many are dead. If anything happens to me, this cannot be lost forever. As you have said, there are no more prophets."  
  
Sam let the offer wash over him, let the reality of it sink into his pores. This angel, who looked more like the ancient interpretations than anything he'd seen recently, was asking him to record a ritual for the sake of posterity. He realised, then, that while Kafziel did not expect to outlast the current war, he believed humanity would make it, and that there would still be angels, regardless of the fate of heaven.  
  
"Yes." The word slipped out of Sam's mouth at the end of a breath. "Yeah, let me just get some things. Do you -- do you want me to film this, or just write it down?"  
  
Kafziel nudged Castiel to his feet, and gently convinced him out of the eternal brown coat. "Castiel? Do you wish this filmed?"  
  
"Will the transition be visible?" Castiel asked, catching on and pulling off his own shoes.  
  
"I recall it being beautiful, but I only saw it from the inside." Kafziel shrugged, in that way he had, the one that said he didn't know everything.  
  
"Sam? Film it. Please. I would like us to see it from the outside, as well." Castiel squeezed the other angel's hand, gently. "By leaving this, perhaps we can atone."  
  
"Perhaps _you_ can atone," Kafziel laughed, as Sam left to get the equipment. "I've done my penance. But, I don't think you have anything to atone for. You chose to break away from a rapidly degrading system, to stop the end of the world -- the end of all of us. You've done more than I have. Gabriel, Hizkiel, and I just left because we were tired of the fighting. If He returns? You and I will be just fine. It's Gabriel I worry about."  
  
"Gabriel chose a questionable and treacherous path, but all the archangels did," Castiel pointed out, unbuttoning his shirt. "I wonder, does filming this mean I can tell Meg I have been in a porno film, if I see her again? Do you think it would be wrong of me to accept her offer?"  
  
"Yes, I think you can tell her that. No, I don't think it's wrong. Do you like her? Do it. I do think you need to take Sam with you, and have him light you up a circle, though, so you don't destroy an entire metropolitan area. I wouldn't trust a demon with that, no matter how good looking she is." Kafziel stood and rested his hands on Castiel's waist. "You are the first angel I have seen in a thousand years, and I can barely see you." He pressed his lips to Castiel's forehead. "First your grace. Then your memory. It is a long time since I have danced the memoriam with another angel."  
  
Kafziel's hands moved up, and Castiel's shirt fell away, as the smaller angel rolled his shoulders and let it go. "I do not know if I want my memory."  
  
"You need it. It will not be easy, but it will not destroy you." A smile touched Kafziel's lips. "Remember, I've been practicing on humans. They can't take a beating like we can."  
  
"Hey," Sam walked back in with both arms full of an assortment of things. "Cas, can you give me a hand real quick?"  
  
As they set up the laptop and the camera, Sam continued to ramble on about the extras he'd brought in. Lube, a towel, some water, the ever-essential fire extinguisher, the leftovers from lunch, since none of them had managed to eat more than a few bites. Finally, after a few tests for camera placement, they were ready.  
  
Sam pulled Castiel into a quick hug. "Anything goes wrong, you decide you want out? You tell me, Cas. I'll get you out."  
  
"If anything goes wrong, we're all going to die, Sam. The last thing you want to do is open that circle, before it's over." Castiel returned the hug, and then stepped back over the line. "We're ready. Thank you."  
  
Nodding, more to reassure himself than them, Sam lit a match and dropped it into the oil, watching the low flames race around the bed. He checked that the camera was recording, and sat down on the floor, with a pillow and his laptop. Every detail, he promised himself. The technical aspects of all of it.  
  
Kafziel tilted Castiel's chin up with one finger, and kissed him, cautiously. "Show me what you like."  
  
Having only been with a woman, Castiel stared intently for several moments, trying to translate his experience into something useful. With one hand, he caressed Kafziel's chest, tracing the tattoos with one finger, whispering the words under his breath. And then, he looked up, determined, and returned the kiss with surprising vehemence.  
  
As their tongues met, Kafziel twisted to hook his forearm under Castiel's skinny ass, and haul the smaller angel the last few inches up, along his thigh. Castiel gasped, clutching his brother's shoulders for balance. As one of Kafziel's hands wandered his back, Castiel began to recite, quietly, against the corner of Kafziel's jaw, the words interspersed with kisses, from behind the ear, down the neck, along the collarbone. He had recognised that one of the tattoos was not a ward; rather, it was the first line of a love poem composed by an Elamite priestess for the celestial creature she'd fallen in love with. The angel, he recalled, had been destroyed, once the mission was complete, and before the affection could be returned. But, he knew it. All of it. And apparently Kafziel did, too, the second voice joining his, between small, sharp bites along his shoulder. All at once, they had the same thought, turning their faces back to one another, and smacking noses on the way in for another kiss, breathing the words into each other's mouths, between quiet huffs of amusement.  
  
"Would you like me to do that to you?" Kafziel asked, after one line.  
  
"I believe that requires other anatomical arrangements," Castiel protested.  
  
"I'm creative. We'll make it work."   
  
Kafziel began to squat, slowly, reaching for the box beside the bed, and Castiel's legs wound around him, one around his hip and the other between his legs and around his thigh. As he lifted a bag of... something out of the box with two fingers, he rolled the muscle in his thigh, and felt Castiel's fingers suddenly dig in to his chest and shoulder.   
  
"Good, bad, or worried about falling off?" Kafziel asked, examining the bag, and then giving Sam the eyebrows of _'Oh, really'_ , as he realised it contained a particular ginseng and ginger sweets purported to have aphrodisiac effects. And that the bag was already open.  
  
Sam shrugged and stared back in faux-incomprehension, hoping he'd gotten better at that look, since the last time he tried to use it on Dean. And... no. The return look was abject, canted-eyebrow disbelief.  
  
In the mean time, Castiel answered the question. "Falling off."  
  
"Right. Off my leg and onto the bed." Kafziel turned to make that a simpler proposition, and Castiel lowered himself to the sheets. "You need to relax. Stop thinking so hard about what's outside this circle. It's just you and me, in here. That's all that matters."  
  
Castiel opened his mouth to answer, and his brother filled the space with a ginger sweet. "Breathe through your nose. Feel the ginger moving through you. Taste it in your mouth, breathe past it, feel that air touch your lungs. Breathe it out, and feel that move through your nose, behind your eyes. Feel this body, Castiel. Pretend it belongs to you, because right now, it does."  
  
Kafziel knelt down onto the bed, positioning himself behind Castiel. His thumbs traced the smaller angel's shoulders, and he began to cautiously knead the flesh. As his warm, sure hands moved down Castiel's back, he began to recite, again, this time in Hebrew. Across the room, Sam turned colours, as he recognised the text. Castiel's head tilted back to rest against Kafziel's chest, his breaths slow and deep, as he tried to appreciate the ginger and his vessel. As Kafziel's thumbs pressed in, where his hips met his spine, Castiel groaned, slow and low.  
  
"There. That. I like it," Castiel murmured, breathing out the scent of ginger, which he then breathed back in, a very different sensation to only feeling it in the back of his throat. His breathing shifted, in through the nose and out through the mouth, to let him better take the sharp flavour through his head.  
  
Kafziel curled his fingers around Castiel's hips, adding a little bit of tension as he worked his thumbs into Castiel's back. The change in Castiel's breathing was immediate, his slightly arched chest rising and falling more quickly. Kafziel continued to recite his favourite verses of erotic poetry, agaist the back of Castiel's ear, rubbing his cheek against the smaller angel's short, dark hair, dragging his tongue along the curve of that swiftly-blushing ear, between lines.  
  
"Yes, yes, yes," Castiel chanted, quietly, as his body began to relax in Kafziel's hands.   
  
The sounds from Castiel grew more lurid as Kafziel's hands began to wander, again, kneading the tension out of Castiel's too-thin body. Sounds Sam had never imagined hearing except out of his own mouth, and those he preferred to forget, because that's the kind of distraction that gets a man killed. It was like watching Castiel melt, behind the flames between them.  
  
"Tell me what you want," Kafziel tried again.  
  
"Kiss me," Castiel replied, his hands moving out of his lap, fingers digging into Kafziel's thighs.  
  
As Kafziel's arms slid around him, the taller angel leaning over his shoulder to lick the ginger from his lips, Castiel could finally feel that stirring in the bowl of his hips, the warm swirl he remembered from the last time. He pressed the remains of the ginger sweet against Kafziel's lips, and felt the world spin as Kafziel sucked it off his tongue, brilliant flickers of warmth accompanying each tongue on tongue caress, as Kafziel licked the burning flavour into submission.  
  
"Lie with me, beautiful angel." Kafziel twisted himself, easily, lying on his side and pulling Castiel with him, so the smaller angel's back met the bed.  
  
"I'm not--" Castiel started.  
  
"Do you think I don't remember? I can still see you. You're just faded, not gone." Kafziel's fingers traced down the middle of Castiel's chest. "Will you let me touch you? Do you want my hands on your skin?"  
  
"Touch me." It wasn't a request. As one warm, broad palm spread over his chest, Castiel reached for Kafziel's face, pulling him down into another kiss.  
  
Sam felt the sweat trickle down behind his ear, as he watched the angels writhe together, Kafziel's huge hands stroking and caressing Castiel's moon-pale skin; Castiel's hands curled into demanding claws, wringing and scrabbling at Kafziel's shoulders. Finally, the kiss parted, and after a long look into the wide-blown blue eyes beneath him, Kafziel began to kiss his way down Castiel's neck. A brief detour along the collarbone, and then his lips chased down that narrow chest, across the concavity of Castiel's belly. Finally, his teeth caught on the button of Castiel's trousers, and he tugged teasingly, before rubbing his cheek against the fly.  
  
"Tell me, Castiel." A hungry smile spread Kafziel's lips.


	5. Beautiful Like a Plasma Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure I promised y'all some porn. Tada! Porn. Weird porn. power-bottom!Cas and uncomfortable voyeur!Sam.

"Tell me, Castiel." A hungry smile spread Kafziel's lips.  
  
A fluid stream of Enochian spilled out of Castiel's parted lips, blending into the rhythm of his panting breaths. Kafziel looked smugly surprised at that answer, and slowly opened Castiel's trousers, licking and nibbling at the flesh above the waistband, as he carefully slid the cloth away, leaving Castiel bare, at last. Castiel brought one leg up, to stroke Kafziel's back with the sole of his foot, and the tall angel rubbed his close-cropped beard against the inside of Castiel's thigh.  
  
"I want you, Castiel." Kafziel's lips pressed against the base of Castiel's half-hard member. "I want you inside me. I want to feel you grinding me down into the bed, while I scream for you." He dragged his tongue along the length and caught the edge of Castiel's foreskin in his teeth. "Maybe once you have grace to spare, we can try it. But, today, now--" Wrapping his lips around the tip, he sucked, licking between the foreskin and the head. As Castiel's cock slipped from his lips, it was no longer only half-hard. "--I will put myself into you in any and every way you want me there," Kafziel promised, licking back down and darting his tongue under Castiel's warm balls.  
  
Castiel's fingers tangled in Kafziel's long, dark-brown hair, as he strung together Enochian words that rarely saw use in wards, spells, and the lists of instructions every angel received. Words included for completeness, not for practical use. The syllables ran together as his testicles draped across Kafziel's nose, and the other angel's hot, wet tongue traced the symbols for those words onto his perineum. His eyes nearly glowed, slivers of bright blue around gaping pupils, as he propped himself up on one elbow and growled what seemed to be a single word at the angel between his legs.  
  
The response was immediate, Kafziel pulling those pale, slender legs up over his own shoulders, and then sliding his hands under Castiel's firm buttocks, one barely-curved cheek in each hand. A raw sound tore out of Castiel, as Kafziel's tongue worked into him. This was like nothing he could remember. His hands clutched at the sheets and at Kafziel's hair.  
  
The word Castiel kept repeating was Enochian, but Sam didn't even need to look it up. There was only one thing that happened in that tone of voice. _'More, more, more.'_ He considered that, the next time anyone asked him to record a ritual, he would remember to bring a bag of ice to put between the laptop and his crotch, because the sweating and burning was not actually doing anything to deter the amazing boner painfully tangled in the leg of his boxer-briefs.  
  
On the bed, the two angels continued their dance of tongues and fingers and forceful words. Kafziel tilted his hands in, bringing the tips of his pinkies together with the tip of his tongue, and pushed those fingers into Castiel, as his tongue curled against the rim, between them. Castiel's hips jerked and rolled, trying to take more into himself. His breathing shifted from panting to long, breathy huffs, and his head tipped back. Kafziel breathed an expletive and pressed the bridge of his nose hard into the flesh just behind Castiel's balls. He felt the slender fingers in his hair pull hard, and heard the aggreived sound of frustration from above him. He drew his fingers out, still licking in long, soothing strokes.  
  
"Hurry." Castiel knew exactly what was happening, the intentions overriding the sensations all at once. "Put your penis inside me. Fill me with your grace."  
  
It wasn't the most romantic thing Kafziel had ever heard, but he realised he'd totally overrated the other angel's resistance to pleasure. Single-handed, he opened his own trousers, writhing out of them and kicking them to the foot of the bed, as he raised his head as far as Castiel's hand would allow.  
  
"Reach down into that box and get the black bottle," Kafziel instructed, and Castiel complied, with an irritated look. "Do you want to put that on me, or should I?"  
  
Castiel examined the bottle, before pouring a small amount of the thin, slick fluid into his hand, rubbing it across his fingers until he understood it. "What do I--?"  
  
Kafziel grabbed Castiel's hand, wrapping the slicked fingers around his own cock. Castiel's eyebrows lifted in understanding, and he proceeded to drizzle more of the lube over the hot flesh in his hand, stroking it on, as if he'd never handled a penis before, which, to be fair, he hadn't. Except his own, but that was dfferent. His fingers slid over the skin, circling the edge of the head under the foreskin, stroking the edges of the slit. Kafziel breathed slowly and deeply, watching Castiel's fascination with his flesh.  
  
"This is quite large. Are you sure it will fit?" Castiel asked, and across the room Sam blushed, knowing exactly what that was about. The problem with being six-foot-something-ridiculous and proportional, was that you were proportional. To yourself. And not really anybody else.  
  
Kafziel pointed at Sam. "You carved runes into his living bones, and you're asking me if this will fit? We're angels. Even if it didn't fit, it would fit. It's still going to fit, the right way, though. I promise you that." He leaned forward, pressing Castiel back onto the bed. "Do you trust me?"  
  
"In this." A cautious answer.  
  
"Put your legs around my waist." Kafziel instructed, and Castiel did. A few more adjustments for comfort, and then Kafziel leaned down for a kiss. "Hold on to me tightly, with your arms and hands. Relax everything else."  
  
Castiel tried to apply that, and all at once, he understood, as his tongue pressed into Kafziel's mouth and Kafziel's hips pushed forward. They came together with tantalizing lassitude, Kafziel pushing in, slow and hard, while Castiel's tongue plundered his mouth, hands clawing at his shoulders and back. After a few inches, Kafziel broke the kiss.  
      
"You need me to stop?"  
  
"No! Don't stop. You were right," Castiel panted. "It will fit. It will all fit."  
  
Amusement dashed across Kafziel's features, as he flexed just the right muscles to make his cock twitch. From the sound Castiel made, he'd timed that perfectly. As Castiel relaxed into the endorphin rush, Kafziel plunged in deeper, grinding as Castiel's body tightened around him. Minutes dragged in a frenzy of pawing and grinding, Castiel alternating between rough, demanding kisses, and desperate sounds. Castiel's body tightened, back arching, and Kafziel reached between them, wrapping his hand tightly around the base of Castiel's cock.  
  
"Just a little longer. Stay with me, beautiful. Just a little longer." Kafziel ground in, harder and deeper, eyes locked on Castiel's sweat-slicked face. "Show me. Show me your face. Show me your wings."  
  
His own wings unfurled, just inside the flames around them. As Castiel's eyes went from a faint blue glow to the blue blaze of that last remnant of grace, Kafziel stopped choking off Castiel's ejaculation with his knuckles and stroked the other angel's abused cock, intently, licking Castiel's tongue into his mouth as the air inside the circle blazed blue, and they both lost track of time and space.  
  
It looked like a plasma fire, Sam thought, as his eyes closed, reflexively. He could hear Castiel screaming, but it sounded like the good kind of screaming, an incoherent stream of half-words and lurid sounds. As usual, he was thankful for the soundproofing that had gone into these walls. The last thing any of them wanted was Crowley getting curious, even if he was the only one who'd thought of that eventuality. As the light slid down toward bearable levels, Sam squinted at the burning circle, catching a flash of feathers and a swirl of blue smoke. And then, suddenly, it was just two naked men sprawled across each other, on a bed inside a ring of fire.  
      
"Cas? You good?" Sam asked, stretching his legs and reaching for the fire extinguisher.  
  
"I am good, Sam. I am very good. I think, right now, that I am amazing." The words sounded a little syrupy, slow and thick. "The Pizza Man could learn a lot from me."  
  
"I think you're amazing, too," Kafziel mumbled into the pillow above Castiel's head. "Probably not in the way he's asking."  
  
Sam turned off the camera and started to put out the fire around the bed. "For the record, it's visible from the outside. You remember Pamela Barnes? It's that kind of visible. I just hope we didn't trash the camera."  
  
Castiel's eyes rolled into focus and locked onto Sam's face, around Kafziel's shoulder. "Are you ok, Sam?"  
  
"What? Yeah, I'm fine. I wasn't looking. Putting that in the notes, though. Don't want to accidentally burn anyone's eyes out." Sam finished putting out the fire. "Do you feel more ...  I don't know, like you, now?"  
  
"Yes. This is an improvement. You should tell Dean to stop worrying. It's very loud."  
  
"Yeah, I will. Let me just get this gear out of here. Do you want me to put a devil's trap down the hall, so you can get some sleep?"  
  
"That will not be necessary. I do not believe Dean has any intention of seeing the inside of this room." Castiel made a small, satisfied sound and rubbed his foot against the back of Kafziel's leg.  
  
"I was a little more worried about Crowley," Sam admitted, sorting what needed to stay from what needed to go with him.  
  
"Crowley's too smart to open that door," Kafziel declared, stretching his wings. "Besides, we're angels. We don't sleep."  
  
"That may be true, but given some of the things he's tried... I'll just put down some salt." Sam opened the door on Dean standing in the hall, and quickly shoved a large box into his hands. "Call me if you need anything, Cas!" With the camera in one hand and his laptop in the other, Sam herded Dean back down the hall, as the door swung shut.


	6. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot more shit going on in Castiel's head than anyone counted on. Kafziel gets a glimpse and it's much more than he bargained for.
> 
> Yes, I just totally set up a sequel. No, I'm not going to write it right now. I don't know if I'll get around to it. Quotes are Proverbs 8:22 and Sirach 1:4-5, NRSV.

The next morning, Sam stumbled out toward the kitchen with an angel blade in one hand and an empty coffee cup in the other, pyjama bottoms slung low across his hips. Between Crowley and an angel he'd only known a day, walking around unarmed had lost its charm. He'd spent most of the night annotating and editing the video from the day before. Turned out that with the right filters he actually _could_ see through the blazing blue flare that occupied about four minutes of footage, and even if he couldn't quite make out all of it, Kafziel was right -- it was beautiful. On the other hand, it was also burned into his brain, from hours of tweaking the contrast and brightness, watching and rewatching.  
  
He passed the angels in the main room, on his way to the coffeemaker, twined around each other and moving through something that looked like it might be a martial arts kata. As he passed, he mumbled something in the way of greeting, figuring he'd have time to be more coherent once he added a little caffeine and sugar to his ragged wit. No asses were being kicked, he couldn't hear Crowley and Dean raving at each other, a relatively calm morning. All he needed to do was apply coffee.  
  
At least, that's what he thought, until he heard Castiel sob his name so loudly it echoed off the roof. The coffee mug missed the counter and exploded across the kitchen floor, as Sam bolted back into the main room, ready to stab anything that got between him and Cas.  
  
Kafziel flicked the edge of one wing at Sam, unwilling to unwrap them from, presumably, Castiel. "Shh, shh. It's ok." His eyes met Sam's, but he kept talking to Castiel. "What's past has passed."  
  
Castiel continued to sob miserably, and Kafziel's wings folded away to reveal that his arms were also wrapped around the smaller angel crying into his chest.  
  
"Sam's right here." Kafziel gestured Sam closer, with just his eyes. "Ask him."  
  
"Sam, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I've said it before, but I am." Castiel's face remained pressed against Kafziel's chest.  
  
"Hey, hey." Sam stuck the knife in the back of his trousers and put a hand on Castiel's back. "I'm still here. You really fucked me up, you know that? But, you came back for me. You took it all onto yourself. Everything you put on me, you took back. I forgave you then, and I'm not taking that back."  
  
"I used you as a pawn, Sam. I did it to hurt your brother." Castiel sniffled and turned, and Kafziel slowly let go, as Castiel hovered between him and Sam, unsure whether to step closer to Sam.  
  
Sam took the step and wrapped his arms around the little angel. "Everybody does it, Cas. I wish to hell they'd stop it, but it is what it is. You want to hurt one of us, you go after the other one." He watched the rivulets of angel snot run down his bare chest. "C'mon, Cas. I already have one self-loathing prick for a brother. Don't stick me with two."  
  
"I am not your brother." Castiel doesn't dispute the other points.  
  
"The hell you're not. You're a part of this increasingly weird family, and I say that part is my brother. You saved me, you almost killed me, you made me crazy, you dragged Dean out of Hell... That's what brothers are for, and you're ours, just as much as you're his." Sam tipped his chin toward Kafziel. "Now, put your ass in that chair. I'm going to go get coffee. Yes, for you, too. And tissues."  
  
Kafziel brushed a hand across his shirt, clearing up the smeary, wet faceprint. "May I trouble you for a cup, as well?"  
  
"Yeah. Sure. I'll just bring out the pot." Sam helped Castiel into a chair, and then crouched in front of him. "Hey, you mean a lot to us. Not just as an angel, either. If this doesn't work, you're still you. You're still my brother, and we'll still teach you to hunt. So, just chill the fuck out and have some coffee."  
  
"Sam?" Castiel looked down at Sam. "Thank you."  
  
Kafziel put a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Castiel? Will you be ok, if I go help Sam clean up the kitchen? We'll be right back."  
  
Castiel nodded and Sam stood, expecting the conversation would not, in fact, be about the coffee mug all over the kitchen floor. With many too many looks back, Kafziel and Sam headed into the kitchen.  
  
"What the fuck was that?" Sam hissed, as soon as they were through the door.  
  
"His memory. Parts of it, anyway. He's missing a couple hundred years, judging from things I know he should remember, but there's a lot of very recent, very serious damage. He's got some memories only in the abstract, like he knew what he did to you, but he didn't remember doing it, until now. Hence..." Kafziel flicked his hand toward the other room, and stared at the shards on the floor until they became a cup again. "It looks like someone took him apart with a dull hacksaw, in there."  
  
Sam let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, and got the coffeemaker started. "How dangerous is it going to be to fix it? Is he gonna be ok?"  
  
"Most of the work I've done has been with humans, who I've learned have many profound regrets. As long as he doesn't try for too much at once, he shouldn't be too much worse for the wear. I expect there will be some crying and tearing of his hair -- he's not quite recovered from his stint as a human. If he goes for the sackcloth and ashes, though, I'm going to worry." Kafziel's delivery was a sliver above deadpan, and it was only the cant of his head that turned the last line into a punchline.  
  
Sam did not look nearly amused. "You got that from Gabriel."  
  
"I used to be his personal assistant. We have a very similar sense of humour, but I have a whole lot less malice. I never managed that much resentment, and I have no idea how he keeps it up." Kafziel picked up the cup and found two more on the drainboard.  
  
"You're sure Cas is going to be ok?"  
  
"I don't sleep. He'll be fine, or as close to fine as I can keep him. He's my brother, too."  
  
"His brothers keep trying to kill us. You'll excuse me if that's not the best reasoning I've heard," Sam snapped, the crisp light of the kitchen highlighting the bruise-coloured smears under his eyes.  
  
"How's this: I'm terrified of losing him. There are so few of us who ever learned to handle being cut off from His holiness, and I'm sure more died in the fall. We're not supposed to run without a guide. We're not _built_ for it. I'm trying to find angels I can _trust_ , not angels who will obey me or expect me to obey them. We are so far out of our depth, here, I don't know what's coming next, even with my recollections intact. You and your brother broke the world. Don't get me wrong, I approve. But, you did. And there are things going on out there that none of us were ever meant to handle. My two best friends are gone. I think Hizkiel is dead, and Gabriel's completely lost his mind. If any of us are going to make it through this, we need angels who can think on their feet. Angels who aren't afraid to do their own thinking. And what you've got in the other room is the most famous case of exactly what I'm looking for. I need him. You need him. We're not going to make it, without him." Kafziel paused to take a few breaths he didn't need. "And he's my brother. And I love him, in exactly the way we were all designed to love each other."  
  
" _That_ is an answer. Let's do this." Sam pulled open the fridge and studied the contents. "Bacon and fried bananas good with you?"  
  
"That's not what I was expecting to come after 'bacon' in that sentence."  
  
"You've never tried putting fruit into my brother. It's this or pie, and this is actually weirdly good. Pie and I have had a bit of a rough relationship since that whole Sucrocorp thing." Sam started slicing bananas, while the griddle warmed up.  
  
"Sure, make some for me, too. I'm just going to take the cups out and check on Castiel." Grabbing a cloth napkin off the top of the fridge, Kafziel headed back out. "I'll wash this later, if he uses it for a snotrag."  
  
A few minutes later, Sam joined them in the main room, carrying one huge plate, five forks (just in case), and the pot of coffee. "Ok, let's try that again. Breakfast. Like semi-civilised people."  
  
There came a clattering of forks and dishes, and coffee was poured. Kafziel held his cup at chest-height, breathing the steam, meditatively. Castiel helped himself to a banana slice, not without comment.  
  
"Food is still strange. I remember liking it, but it's... different, now. I don't want to taste the molecules, separately. I want to taste the food," Castiel complained, picking at the bananas, anyway.  
  
"You'll get over it," Kafziel assured him, wrapping a piece of bacon around three banana slices and popping it into his mouth. "You're approaching it too linearly. Don't taste each thing, taste all the things. Compress the moment."  
  
Castiel looked contemplative, mashing a bit of banana around his mouth with his tongue, while Sam looked on in amusement.  
  
"Thank you both for providing me with the most surreal eighteen hours of my life, including the ones I spent with Gabriel. I just spent the night editing a massively destructive porno, and I'm now listening to a discussion on how to taste food." Adding coffee to the problem was not helping nearly as much as Sam had hoped it might.  
  
One of Castiel's hands began tracing absent circles on the table, and the thousand-yard stare set in. His other hand put down the fork and traced a strange pattern in the air, his hand spreading slowly across the centre of it, after a few seconds, and then his eyes focused sharply on Kafziel. "You were there. In Babylon."  
  
"Gabriel and I did a lot of Babylon. When?" Kafziel looked confused.  
  
"I was sent to kill you. You and Hizkiel." Castiel rested his head on the edge of the table, and Enochian words poured out of his mouth.  
  
" _That's_ what they told you? That he was cast down? He wasn't cast down, we just left." Horror seized Kaziel's features. "They told you he had ruined us, and we needed to be put down. That we were unrecoverable."  
  
"They were right." Castiel muttered. "You were unrecoverable. So am I."  
  
"It's a good thing you were always horrible at following orders, or we woudn't be having this conversation. They kept you because you could be used on those things where no one wanted the blame to fall on them, when things went according to someone's plan, didn't they. And they wanted me dead, because I was loyal to Gabriel." Kafziel started to unpack centuries of assumptions. "Tell me again."  
  
Castiel took a deep breath and rattled off the same long string of Enochian. "They wanted Gabriel to come home, didn't they? If I had killed you both, he would have stormed the gate."  
  
Kafziel nodded. "I think you're right. You're ordered to kill us both, and to leave evidence that he would understand, but to stay clear of him. It was a trap. Why didn't you do it?"  
  
"Because our father doesn't kill his children. Sophia reminded me. Sophia did something to me. I remember her so clearly -- the little girl taking my hand and speaking? No, singing. I didn't understand the words, then. But, I followed her for weeks. She took my sword from me. I never thought of not putting it in her hands. She slew two rams with it and gave it back, telling me to go home, and that I had done what I came to do." Castiel cleared his throat and sat up. "I thought I had killed you."  
  
"And I never saw you." Kafziel looked a little wide-eyed. "Sophia? You're sure?"  
  
"Sophia. I'm sure."  
  
"This is going to be even more interesting than I thought. You've had more than just heaven in your head. She's older than all of us. She was one of His first. 'The Lord created me as the beginning of his way'? 'Wisdom was created before all other things and prudent understanding from eternity. The source of wisdom is God’s word in the highest heaven, and her ways are the eternal commandments'? That Sophia." Kafziel laughed then, horrified as he thought he could never be. "You were chosen from the beginning. Not to lead, but as proof of point. I just don't know which point she was trying to prove."  
  
"A being with free will cannot be controlled forever, no matter how much you take from that being. That cannot be removed, only suppressed." And then Castiel's head tipped back, precipitously, hanging over the back of the chair as a single, low tone emanated from his throat. His hands clamped down on the edge of the table.  
  
"I think he's having a seizure," Sam hissed, leaping to his feet and rushing to Castiel's side.  
  
Kafziel moved more slowly, walking around the table to tilt the chair back a little, before he cupped a hand around the back of Castiel's head and thumped him once, soundly, between the eyes. He barked an Enochian word at Castiel, and suddenly the pale angel began to recite in unaffected Enochian. Kafziel closed his eyes and listened. Two more sharp commands, and Castiel's eyes refocused.  
  
"Why are you standing over me? What happened?" He sounded confused, but not particularly concerned.  
  
"Someone left me a present. Not _me_ , but the next person to ask you uncomfortable questions." The softness of Kafziel's voice was insufficient to conceal his burning fury. "There are only four of us who can do that. Zachriel, Zadkiel, Mupiel, and I. And I'm sure whichever one of them it was wasn't expecting that _someone_ to have any idea what to do when you started reeling off your base instructions. After all, you killed me, didn't you?"  
  
"I returned to heaven with your blood on my sword, and awaited my next instructions." Castiel smiled a little awkwardly, as he spotted Sam hovering on his other side. "Sam? You look terrible. Have you slept?"  
  
"No, I haven't slept, and you know why I haven't slept." Sam snatched his coffee off the table and poured it down his throat, before smacking the cup back onto the table. "You're all kinds of not ok. I'm not leaving you."  
  
"No, no." Castiel untangled himself from the tall angel's hands and stood. "You need to sleep, Sam. I need to meditate on what has happened. Come lie beside me. I'll hold your hand, until you wake up. So even while you sleep, you will know that I am fine."  
  
Kafziel took the opportunity to grab another slice of bacon. "He's right, Sam. I'll go read a book. He can't go looking any deeper, today. I don't want to lose him."  
  
"You don't want to lose the perfect weapon, just like everybody else," Castiel accused.  
  
"No, I don't want to lose the only angel I can carry on a decent conversation with," Kafziel retorted. "Or a decent lover."  
  
"Decent? Yesterday I was amazing."  
  
"Maybe you'll have to remind me how amazing you are," Kafziel teased. "Go lie down a while. Let that settle before you try to do anything else with it."  
  
Castiel wrapped an arm around Sam's ribs and led him out. "May I borrow your laptop, while you sleep? I promise to keep the sound off."  
  
"Yeah, sure. Just don't watch too much porn. I don't want you bringing down the roof. Dean'll be pissed as hell if you drop this place on his head."  
  
"Dean will be pissed _in_ Hell, if I drop this place on his head," Castiel corrected, and Sam started to laugh, despite himself.  
  
Kafziel considered that book of Enochian poetry, wondering if it could be as good as Sam seemed to think it was. He'd take the time to find out. The two demons who appeared and started arguing over the bacon, as he left the room, just added flavour to the day. Demon and a half, according to Sam. Either way, he'd get used to it. He was going to be here, for a while.


End file.
